


Points of Origin

by Iambic



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iambic/pseuds/Iambic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you look back later, you don't remember things quite in order. There was a fall, and a fight -- or was it the other way 'round?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Points of Origin

The rope tears at John's hands, and it slips between his boots, but he's got a hold on it for now. And he's stubborn, far too stubborn to let this be the end. Even when the wind pushes him against the cliff's rocky face, fraying the rope and adding to his collection of scrapes and bruises. There's a voice in his head that he wants to ignore, yelling jumpjumpjumpjump in the sort of insistent tone that once told him to fly between two hive ships through open fire, to fly the jumper himself, to take on Kolya and the wrath of the ocean to save Atlantis. It's the voice of madness, of self-sacrifice, and this time his death will do nothing, nothing at all.

John hangs on.

\--

There shouldn't be so much noise in the infirmary – Carson says as much, quite pointedly – but Elizabeth made the tactical error of coming down to check on the team, and there's nothing for it. Rodney has been spitting mad since they made it back through the stargate, and probably before that. He's been as placid as he ever is, though this is probably due to the drugs he's on, but even that cannot stop him from unleashing his anger and frustration upon Elizabeth when she comes in to inspect. Carson knows a lost cause when he sees one, and simply admonishes them a few times to take this elsewhere. They don't seem to hear.

"We all could have _died_!" Rodney repeats, as close to shouting as he can come.

"Do you think I don't know that?" Elizabeth snaps back at him.

"Then why," Rodney grits out, "did you tell us – tell him – to stay put?"

Carson knows the answer to this question; he knows Rodney knows it, too. But he understands that Rodney doesn't like this answer at all, because it's a valid one. They need allies against the Wraith, need every chance they can get. They can't afford to stay back just to save a few necks.

But they also can't afford to lose senior staff in reckless forays into unknown territory just because potential allies – untrustworthy potential allies – promised rewards that seemed almost too good to be true.

But the thing is, Elizabeth isn't the one to blame. In the end, they were all duped, and Carson's no Kate Heightmeyer, but he has a feeling that the reason Rodney is so angry at Elizabeth is that she's the only person he can blame beside himself.

And it's not fair to any of them, but with three friends at death's door, only now stabilising and still with a long way to go, Carson can't really fault Rodney for wanting to share what blame he can.

\--

Teyla's rope snaps above her. She has been gradually slipping on the slick fibers, and the rain weighs her down as it soaks into the fabric of her uniform, and so she has been preparing herself to fall for some time now. But the snap above her takes her by surprise nonetheless. She cries out in surprised, briefly, and then she's falling.

When Teyla was a young girl, she often dreamed of flight, and sometimes she would pretend to have wings in games with other children. She has always imagined flight to feel like the ultimate freedom, even beyond what she felt in the puddlejumpers. The way John described flying in one of his Earth aircraft.

But now she is not flying. Teyla is falling, and she feels heavy, heavy as a stone, and as far from freedom as she has ever felt before.

\--

By the time the stargate activates, Elizabeth has made thirteen circuits of the control area, and is sitting down while Laura Cadman watches her with one eye to make sure she doesn't start pacing again. But Laura doesn't object to Elizabeth jumping to her feet when the event horizon forms, nor Elizabeth hurrying down the stairs and into the jumper bay to join the medical team in bringing their lost and found people to safety.

They are in a bad state, she finds. When the back of the jumper opens, it is to reveal a grim-faced Evan Lorne and his grim-faced team and the forms of four others, prone on the floor. The medical team wheels Teyla out first, and Elizabeth can see where she must have landed, how the attempt to cling to the rope dislocated her shoulder, how the impact with the river below soaked her, how the crash into the rock that saved her cracked her skull. But she's breathing; no matter how shallowly, and the rise and fall of her chest comforts Elizabeth more than she expected it to.

John follows, in a similar state. His hands are torn and raw, his uniform dark with mud, and blood. Like Teyla, he is unconscious, and like Teyla, he breathes shallowly in, shallowly out.

Ronon has a bullet wound and a fever, and his jaw is clenched and beaded with sweat. Mud mats his hair, his coat, and his arm looks broken, but he's breathing far more easily than the first two, and for a moment Elizabeth is sure that his eyes flickered open as he passed her. But she can't be sure, and at any rate she's too busy watching Rodney be wheeled out, bringing up the tail of the bloody procession.

Whereas the first three showed their injuries for any casual observer to spot, Rodney simply appears to have fallen in a mud puddle. The blood in his hair and on his clothing could belong to Ronon, could belong to John, could be Teyla's – could be any nameless enemy's. But he's awake, and Elizabeth can tell how badly injured he really is because Evan told her just how many painkillers Rodney was given, and yet he still looks as pained as Ronon.

"They tricked us," he whispers – accuses – and Elizabeth can hear the rage in his voice, mostly because she shares that blind fury that anyone could have done this to her people. She only nods mutely as the nurse shushes Rodney, as the procession wheels away.

\--

_When you look back later, you don't remember things quite in order. There's the pain, and the frantic failures, and the cold all mixed up with the unexpected awakening in a warm bed, the familiar bustle of familiar voices around you. Carson says you almost died, Elizabeth vocally doubts you would have, and Lorne gets that 'not on my watch' expression you know so intimately from the many times you've worn it._

But when you do look back, later, you sometimes have to taste the lack of mud on your lips, just to be sure you know where you are now.

\--

Somewhere between cliff and gully, holding on to a slippery rope as he swings into space, into rock, John thinks about desert and tundra and all the extremes he faced back on Earth, and the people how lost then. He thinks that he's not going to lose anyone now. They're all here together, and he doesn't plan on dying, but if he dies, they're all dead together too.

He thinks he would rather die here than be the sole survivor again.

But he hasn't given up on Ronon, or Rodney, or even Teyla. So he still hangs on. His hands burn, and he's not sure what's got such a steady hold on the other side, but he's got this feeling, this half-thought, that's telling him his team is waiting for him, counting on him. That Atlantis hasn't forsaken him yet.

\--

Everything's hazy and out of focus, but Ronon can tell he's not lying on the edge of a cliff anymore. That's an improvement. He's still aching, though he can tell he's drugged and the pain should be worse. He'd object, but the fog in his head is almost familiar. Ronon likes the familiar, enough not to care too much about painkillers. He cares more about the other people he can't quite see, the conversation he can't quite follow. (He heard something about Sheppard, about Teyla, about breathing.)

There's a pressure on his wrist, sharper than the rest. Something McKay-shaped is clutching it so tightly that his fingers are cutting off bloodflow. Ronon twitches his arm, the best he can do around what feels like a broken bone, and then McKay's startled eyes look up and meet his.

"Ronon's awake," someone says in the background. Ronon doesn't know who. Doesn't care who. He's busy focusing on the pain in his wrist, which must have woken him up. It's useful, but uncomfortable.

"McKay," he says, and his tongue feels numb and swollen. "You can let go of me."

But McKay flinches, and he sets his jaw and stays where he is. Gradually his hand relaxes, but his face remains pinched and unhappy.

John or Teyla would probably have a better idea why. Would have more words to choose from, would probably have something to say. But Ronon can't talk so well, especially now. He nods as much as he can, and that's all the thanks he can muster, even when his fingers stop tingling and he drifts to sleep again.

\--

He can hear the puddlejumper now, another team come to save the day, but Lorne's already far too late. Rodney's hands are numb, cold, waxy; his fractured rib impedes breath but even that pain isn't going to save Sheppard now. Ronon's already out cold, and Teyla floats somewhere in the river, soon to die of drowning or hypothermia or waterfall. Wet death, cold death, lonely death. Rodney laughs, and then regrets it, and then laughs again because this is the end, and he's not going to let a fractured rib keep him from going out sarcastic.

"Dr McKay!" someone shouts from a distance. Too little, too late. Rodney's hands are cramping up now, slick with cold sweat and rain. It's almost with a sense of bitter, bitter relief that Rodney feels the rope slips from his fingers, the sharp ache in his arms grow dull and accusatory. But he doesn't feel relief. He feels the rough scrape of rope fibers against uncooperative palms. He hears John's shout ring out across the gully, and then the sickening thud of body meeting rock.

It's over, he tries to say, but the words die in his ravaged throat. He laughs again, utterly defeated, and lets his hands fall, dangle over the edge of the gully.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Points of Origin (The Connect the Dots Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/125806) by [zvi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zvi/pseuds/zvi)




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